


Holiday Four Pack

by icywind



Series: The Best Game You Can Name [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Barney is a good (if overprotective) brother, F/F, F/M, First Kiss (kinda/sorta/almost), Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/pseuds/icywind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Christmases and two New Years Eves. Meddlesome friends, family, and teammates.</p><p>Clint just keeps surprising Phil and getting under his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas 2013

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters one and two will cover Christmas last year and this. Three and four the same for New Years. At least that's the plan.
> 
> Un-beta'ed (at least for chapter 1 & 2) because I didn't have the time if I wanted this posted on Christmas. If you find anything egregious, please consider pointing it out via my tumblr.
> 
> Thanks to [ereshai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai) for the quick beta on chapters 3-5!!

One of Phil’s quietly favorite things about being involved with hockey was how much the people in the sport gave back. He knew with certainty that his team was not the only one making a pilgrimage to a children’s hospital this season (to name only one type of philanthropic gesture) and it warmed his heart.  He watched fondly as his players, and he could admit that even only a little over a month into things he considered them his, fanned out in pairs and small groups to say hello and spend some time with the kids.

 

Scott Lang, who had looked more than a little unsteady on the ride over, was off to one side with two young teenagers. May was at his side as well, to offer her steady calm. Jasper had mentioned that last year Lang hadn’t been able to come on the trip, he’d spent too much time in the hospital already with Cassie being sick. Thankfully he’d just shared the news with the team last week that she had been declared in full remission. Phil wondered briefly if the two youngsters Lang was talking to were friends Cassie had met in the hospital.

 

In one of the lounge areas Steve and Bucky were holding court with a larger group of kids; a book held open between the two of them that they took turns reading from with a collection of silly voices and faces. Thor, who was up next (and if Phil had to guess he was probably quite popular given his big voice and love of storytelling), looked content as could be to hold one of the children that had crawled into his lap and simply listen.

 

In each room he passed at least one or two of his players or fellow coaches were present, talking and laughing. He hadn’t seen Nick (or Fitz and Jarvis for that matter) for a while but he put that out of his mind as the sound of singing reached his ears.

 

Following it, he found Skye and Darcy (and hadn’t that been the most frighteningly quick formed and dangerous of friendships) standing outside a room at the end of the hall. Skye looked the way Phil felt – amazed at what they were hearing. Darcy meanwhile looked a little smug – she clearly had expected this.

 

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he peered inside, but it certainly wasn’t Clint and Tony standing before the beds of two little girls and singing to them. Their voices weren’t perfect, but Phil found himself loving the rough quality of them. He knew Tony could sing, he did it all the time at the rink (sometimes even well, rather than obnoxiously to get on someone’s nerves); but Clint’s skills were a revelation.

 

“They do this every year – usually just for smaller groups but sometimes we get them to do it in the lounge for the bigger groups,” Darcy explained quietly.

 

Phil only half listened to her as Skye posed questions and she answered, he was too transfixed by the sound of Clint’s voice. He became lost to the rest of the world and startled, rather embarrassingly, when Nick’s voiced boomed out from behind him.

 

“Merry Christmas children, have you been good little girls this year?” The girls giggled and Tony and Clint let out laughs as Nick, dressed as Santa, made his way into the room. Jarvis and Fitz, dressed as elves and carrying two sacks of gifts, trailing behind him.

 

The spell broken, Phil decided discretion was the better part of valor, and he made his escape back down the hall before Clint – Barton, before Barton, noticed he’d been watching.

 

~~~

 

Two days later Phil found himself watching Barton again, this time it was as he pulled two young girls around with a hockey stick. Judging by the delighted laughter echoing around the rink from the threesome, he wasn’t sure who was having a better time, Barton or the girls.

 

“They’re Barney’s girls,” Bobbi said from right next to him. He didn’t jump, really he didn’t. “Sweet kids, Clint thinks the world of them.”

 

“He’s quite good with them,” Phil agreed. He and Bobbi sat in companionable silence for a moment, just watching the Bartons chase around the rink, weaving in and out of the other families and pairs. Sensing he wasn’t up to talking much more, Bobbi skated off to join Rhodey, Tony, and Pepper.  

 

Danny Rand skated by with his god-daughter Danielle while Luke and Jessica enjoyed some time to themselves. Phil thought it might be more time that they had initially anticipated, given the happy look on Danny’s face as he murmured to the little girl. It looked like he might not give her up.

 

Natasha had cleared some space on the other side of the rink and Phil marveled at her grace and beauty as she ran through a few of her old figure skating moves. Bucky, having strayed from Steve and Peggy’s sides, was cheering enthusiastically, much to Natasha’s chagrin.

 

“Something’s up there,” Melinda voiced from his side, and again he didn’t jump.

 

“You don’t usually state the obvious like that,” he replied. They were very subtle about it, but most of the team had the idea that it was only a matter of time before Bucky and Natasha were an item – if they weren’t already. Melinda knew that. Melinda, frankly, probably knew the team better than him despite joining them at the same time he had.  

 

“You’re right,” she agreed, “and eventually you’ll figure out why I did,” her smile mild and cryptic. He was about to grumble his annoyance with her when a cheer erupted from the bench as Sam and Hank began pulling Cassie Lang around on a sled, her best friend Kate and her father trailing behind. That seemed to spur everyone into action and soon Phil and Melinda were swept up with everyone else as pretty much the entire team and staff and their relatives created a giant game of snake around the rink.

 

Inevitably it fell apart under its own weight, the section Phil was in accidentally colliding with a portion closer to the end, and everyone in the area fell to the ground. From there it devolved into an attempt at a snowball fight with everyone, Phil included, scooping up what ice shavings they could and lobbing them at each other. Phil got a particularly large one right to the face and when he cleared it he was met with the laughing visage of Clint Barton.

 

“Man, you should see your face right now, Coulson,” he grinned, wiping his hand on his jeans then shifting to his feet and offering his hand to Phil.

 

“Phil,” he said as he took it and rose as well. At Barton’s quirked eyebrow he elaborated. “I think when we’re not in work mode you could probably call me Phil.” Barton’s smile turned softer and warmer and a flicker of some emotion Phil couldn’t read passed over his face.

 

“Alright, Phil, but only if you call me Clint.”

 

Clint. Phil nodded to himself. He could call him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The universal thread of giving back and helping out in the community is one of my absolute favorite things about hockey. They do a variety of things all season long, and often during the offseason as well. I couldn't help but try to include it in a silly holiday story.
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/).


	2. Christmas 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Barney both meddle with the best of intentions, if for differing ends.

 

“I told you I would’ve been fine on my own,” Phil groused at Nick for the umpteenth time that day. His oldest friend had shown up an hour ago and ordered Phil to ‘clean up and put something nice but not stuffy on – you’re my plus one at a dinner party.’

 

“You would have been grumpy and miserable going into Philly. I’m not dealing with you grumpy and miserable going into Philly,” Nick replied sternly. “You know how you get when you’re there.” He hadn’t given any clue where they were going, though he had uncharacteristically involved himself in what Phil was wearing even past the initial instruction to wear ‘something nice but not stuffy,’ glowering until Phil hit on the right combination of sweater (dark blue) and dress pants (charcoal).  

 

“You’re being unreasonable.”

 

Nick said nothing.

 

“That was twenty years ago, I’m over it.”

 

He continued to say nothing.

 

“Fine, whatever, will you at least tell me where we’re going?” Only, he found he didn’t actually have to ask that now that he looked around. “Brooklyn? Are we crashing St…” and no, they weren’t heading towards Steve’s place at all. “Barton?” he asked. “You have an invite to Barton’s?”

 

“And why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Aren’t his parents and brother in town?” Well, Phil knew for a fact Barney was in town at least, along with his kids. The two girls had come to practice yesterday, elated to have been able to watch their uncle in person.

 

“Despite my obligation to keep a certain professional distance, you of all people should know I’m friends with Clint. That friendship extends, to some degree, to his family as well. Now, they’re nice enough to invite me to dinner and they mentioned I could bring someone if I wanted. I was nice enough to drag your ass along so stop being so thickheaded and just enjoy yourself. I know you know how and I know you want to.”

 

There was some additional muttering, but Phil didn’t really pay attention to it, he was too busy looking away in mollification. It was just…he didn’t know what to do about Barton. He couldn’t always think clearly about him. He’d gotten under his skin and it was throwing Phil for a loop. He’d never found someone who he both craved and feared spending time with. It was easy spending time with Barton, even outside the rink, easy to let his guard down. They could talk about everything or nothing, uncharted territory usually for Phil’s friendships. For as good as Phil was at hockey, he was usually not the best at people outside of that familiar framework. His relationship with Barton was the type of easy that threatened to slide into ‘really fucking complicated and dangerous’ and it put Phil on edge. He liked to be in control of things and his emotions. Barton was a threat against that control. He bought a fucking joke book and looked up cat videos and memes to show him on long flights just to see him smile or laugh. And each smile and laugh made him want more.

 

Perhaps it was closer to ‘really fucking complicated and dangerous’ than he liked to admit.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered as Nick pulled up in front of the building.

 

“Apology accepted, now help me carry this stuff.”

 

~~~

 

Phil didn’t get his first look at Barton until Nick’s done giving him a warm hug and they exchange pleasantries. He looked good, far better than anyone should really, in a grey henley and dark jeans and Phil feels his smile is tight and a little awkward.

 

“Phil! Merry Christmas! Good to see you,” Barton said as he ushered Phil inside.  “Nick said he was bringing someone, didn’t mention it was you.” Nick had, of course, vanished further into the loft-style apartment to deliver his pie and greet the members of Clint’s family (and leave Phil on his own).

 

“I think he felt sorry for me,” he replied, with a rueful smile. “Skye’s in England, with Jemma.”

 

“Oh really? Good for them,” Clint smiles softy and Phil finds himself mirroring it. The relationship was new, but his daughter was happy and that’s all he could really ask for.

 

“Well, we’re happy to have you with us. Dinner is in about fifteen minutes. Tree’s over there if you want to drop off the gifts, which Nick really didn’t have to get, I keep telling him not to,” Clint calls over his shoulder, getting a hardy “Bologna – As if that will stop me!” in reply.

 

Nick Fury substituting ‘bologna’ for ‘bullshit’ in deference to Barney’s kids being there, might just be worth whatever awkwardness might arise today, Phil thought as he dutifully walked the packages he’s carrying over to the tree. It didn’t take long to notice that amongst them is the gift he’d had in his office to give to Barton (he’d gotten something for everyone on the team and had planned on handing them out individually). It looked like he’d have to talk to Nick about boundaries again.

 

Barton’s (who was he kidding, he should just give up and think of him as Clint again, or else he’d come across odd) Clint’s dog Lucky is there to ‘help’ him put down the gifts and then padded after him as he made his way over to where the others were. He rubbed the dog behind his ears in an effort to get a little courage before reintroducing himself to Barney, his wife Lauren, and their two girls - Lily (age 15) and Eliza (age 6). He knew Lily wasn’t Barney’s biologically, but he could’ve sworn she was by the shrewd look she gave him after shaking her hand. It was the same look Barney gave him every time they met.

 

Clint’s adoptive parents, Mike and Danya, he’d met twice before; most recently back in Sochi during the Olympics. Mike was as welcoming as he could remember. Danya, meanwhile, gave him a pointed look.

 

“You need to tell him to stop trying to block Chara slapshots, this is unacceptable,” she said, reaching over to pull up the hem of Clint’s shirt to expose a vivid bruise on his side (and to Phil’s vague discomfort, his truly stunning abs). Clint squawked in a hilariously indignant manner as his brother and Nick laughed at him as he pulled his shirt down and swatted her hand.

 

“I’ll do my best,” Phil replied, mouth twitching into a smile. “Personally I think he enjoys the dinners Tony buys him when it happens.”

 

“You’re all terrible people,” Clint announced. “C’mon Liza-bean & Lily-bell, you’re still good to me, let’s go set the table.”

 

The exchange, strange at it had been, helped to ease Phil’s nerves. The dinner itself put him further into a comfortably happy state, the food wonderful and conversation fun and lively. It was nice to see Clint in his element, surrounded by his family. A family, Phil knew, he was so very lucky to have. Clint didn’t talk a lot about his life before the Murrays had fostered, and then adopted, him and Barney, but he’d said enough (and his silences said even more). It was a shame there weren’t enough people like Mike and Danya in the world.

 

~~~

 

Because Phil hadn’t brought any food he felt obligated to offer his services helping with the clean-up, which is how he found himself washing pots and pans with Barney. They worked silently for a while as the sounds of the others filtered in from the main room – he thought he could make out an argument on what to watch while they were opening gifts – and then Barney suddenly cleared his throat.

 

Phil glanced over.

 

“This is gonna sound all cave-man of me,” he began, “and Clint would kill me if knew what I was doing but I gotta ask – what are your intensions towards my brother?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Phil replied gruffly, staring straight ahead at the sink where his hands were hanging limply in the water.

 

“Bullshit,” Barney said quietly. “Don’t play possum with me, Coulson. I’ve seen the way you look at my brother.”

 

Phil sighed through his nose, trying to act calmer than he felt.

 

“D’you just want him? Is that all it is?”

 

“I don’t…this isn’t…” there’s a rushing in his ears and he pulls his hands from the water, a first move in his attempt to walk away. Barney stops him with a hand on his arm. It’s firm but not forceful, though he flexes his grip as if to show how it could be and Phil finally looks up to meet his gaze. There’s a fierce protectiveness there and he clamps down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything.

 

“For more than half my life that boy was the most important thing in the world to me. He’s still one of the most important things. I had to be his brother and his father. I went hungry to make sure he had something to eat. I had to patch him up when our father and later some of the other shitbags the state gave us to beat on him. Are you following me?”

 

Phil swallowed heavily and nodded.

 

“Clint has this spark about him, always has. I get how that could attract people. He’s a good man with a good heart. A big heart that he wears on his sleeve. You know that, right?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Clint feels first and thinks later. He’s always lead with his heart and it gets him into trouble. He gets it broken a lot. I don’t like it when people break my brother’s heart.”

 

“I can assure you, Barney, I have no intention of hurting your brother.”

 

“I don’t know if intentions really matter,” he replied cryptically.

 

The reply galvanized the ill feeling that had been developing the entire conversation and suddenly Phil felt a little like he was going to throw up. What if Clint had feelings for him? If Phil was encouraging him in any way, and he felt a little like he might be, he could very well hurt him in a way he hadn’t intended. Because no matter how he might feel, or be growing to feel, he couldn’t enter into a relationship with one of his players. It would be a breach of trust. A betrayal he just couldn’t stand for. If Clint had feelings for him and Phil was inadvertently leading him on…

 

“Now you get it,” Barney said slowly, obviously reading the revelation on Phil’s face. He shifted his grip up to Phil’s shoulder. “Look, I’d love for him to be with a good guy like you, really, but I’m sensing the fact that you’re a good guy means that might not happen.”

 

“I can’t…I’m sorry. It’s…complicated.” Phil hated himself for saying it, it sounded so trite, but he wasn’t about to go pouring his heart out in Clint’s kitchen.

 

“It usually is with Clint,” and with that Barney’s tone shifts to something a little softer. “If you’re not going to pursue something with him, you need to let him down gently.” He catches Phil’s gaze, holding it in order to get a promise. “Please.”

 

“I will,” he replies, hating how his voice catches.

 

“Okay,” Barney nods.

 

“The kids are ready to open the presents,” Danya says as she enters the kitchen. Her eyes flick between the two of them and she quickly signs something to Barney, who replies in kind.

 

Phil doesn’t know ASL, but from the facial expressions he sees as the two sign back and forth he’s pretty sure they’re having an argument. He grabs a towel to dry his hands and looks away to give them some privacy. They must finish pretty quickly, because they follow him to the couch a moment later.

 

Gift opening goes by ascending age for the group so Clint is third up. Phil has to squeeze his hand into a fist at his side as Clint unerringly reaches for the gift he got him. He makes short work of the paper and then opens the box. His expression cycles from confusion to disbelief and then a little bit of awe as he carefully opens the cover.

 

“A UK first edition copy of Good Omens, signed by both Gaiman and Pratchett,” he explains to the others.

 

“It’s my favorite book…” Clint says, glancing up at him, the question ‘how did you know’ plain enough on his face.

 

“I know; or, at least, I guessed.” He caught Clint reading it often enough in his office and on the plane. It had taken a little searching to find an actual first edition and then a few favors and a bit of luck to secure the signatures. It was all worth it though, to see Clint’s reaction.

 

“Thanks Phil,” his smile was so beautiful it made something ache in Phil’s chest. An ache that soon turned into a pang as he remembered his promise to Barney in the kitchen.

 

This thing with Clint was complicated and dangerous and he needed to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated at the start, this chapter is un-beta'ed, please direct any corrections to my tumblr redsector-a


	3. New Years Eve 2013 into 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [ereshai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai) for the quick beta!!
> 
> Yes I am posting New Years stuff in April. Oops?

“Does it feel weird?” Clint asked as he approached Coulson, who was standing at a high top near the window, a great view of the Loop spread out before them. Coulson raised a brow. “Being back in Chicago like this,” he elaborated. “I mean, I thought you were from here?” 

That…wasn’t his best sentence ever. 

“I mean, I grew up near here, or, well, lived near here for a few years anyway and I can remember my first game back here felt a little weird is all.” Was he set on verbal diarrhea or something?

Coulson, thankfully, just gave him a patiently amused smile in return.

“I did grow up here, born and raised.” He glanced out the window for a moment to orient himself before pointing. “My parents still have a music shop just over there on Jackson near Michigan, actually.”

“Really?” Clint grinned. “That’s pretty awesome.”

“Sadly I inherited zero musical talent.”

“Who was more disappointed?”

“Definitely them.” Phil’s smile turned more than a little wry. “My rebellious phase was to be the exact opposite of what they liked.”

“You had a rebellious phase?” Clint asked, intrigued.

“Oh I did. Leather jacket. Motorcycle. Pierced ear even.”

That was a mental image that was going to stick with Clint for a while.

“Of course the earring lasted all of two seconds with hockey. Just not really safe to wear and a few teammates were jerks about it. But it was fun while it lasted.”

Clint was going to perhaps ask Coulson to elaborate on that when a waiter came up to them to offer to freshen their drinks. Coulson asked for another whiskey and, when he raised his brow, Clint asked for more water.

“Not much of a drinker,” he said with a shrug. Really, Harold Barton had done enough drinking for the entire family. Clint never really had developed much of a taste for alcohol, probably because of that if he were being honest. He had it on occasion, enjoyed his share of a little celebratory champagne, but he never drank all that much. Some people acted weird about that (and honestly, he had no idea why – it wasn’t like he was telling them they couldn’t drink) but Coulson just nodded.

“You know, I have to say, you surprised me the other day at the hospital. I had no idea you could sing like that.”

“S’nothing, really” he replied, ducking his head a little, thankful that the dim lighting would hide his blush. 

“No really, you’re quite good.” 

Clint ducked his head again and Coulson, sensing his vague embarrassment at the compliment, then deftly turned the conversation on to other things. The topics ranged far and wide, starting out with hockey – specifically the Olympics. Team USA’s roster was set to be announced the next day and Clint was more than a little nervous about that. Coulson said he could give nothing away, but quietly tried to assure Clint all would be well. From there it had ranged to food to travel to cars and a million other things. A few of his teammates and some of the support staff drifted over to engage, but for the most part it was just Phil and him.

It was fantastic.

Before he knew what was happening the clock was nearing midnight and Clint was trying to avoid explaining to Phil the team’s ridiculous tradition of kissing at least three people after the stroke of midnight. It was cowardly, sure, but…he just didn’t think he could do it. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily given the angle of her brow as she glanced his way) Natasha had eased over while he’d been grabbing some champagne and was explaining the tradition to Phil. 

“Fair Clinton, would you do me the honors in lieu of my Lady Jane?” Thor asked from behind Clint as the countdown reached thirty seconds. 

“Why not?” he shrugged. Maybe it would get him out of the awkward moment facing Phil would create. Except, it created its own awkward moment when Thor grabbed him firmly and dipped him in a rather exaggerated fashion as they pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. It caught him off guard and he was still setting himself to rights when Nat grinned at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then spun him around to face Coulson. 

“I uh…”

“At least three is tradition, right?”

“Yeah…”

And then Phil was leaning in and brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Happy New Year, Clint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it's worth, this was written well before canon told us Phil was from my own home state. Phil in this verse is from Chicago. Coulson's Music is a real place in the Loop and it amuses me greatly.


	4. New Years Eve 2014 into 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [ereshai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai) for the quick beta!!

Stark had outdone himself this year Clint thought as he entered the ballroom. Well, Pepper had outdone herself scaling down Stark’s ideas into something tasteful and enjoyable, he amended. The décor was a mix of the team colors that somehow didn’t at all come across as silly or clichéd. There was an understated band off to one side and waiters circled with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. 

Clint circulated through the room, greeting and mingling with teammates and their wives or partners as they gathered in knots around the room, enjoying the food and drink Tony and Pepper provided and taking spins on the dance floor. 

He tried to tell himself he wasn’t looking for Coulson, but that was a lie. The man seemed quite popular this year, always surrounded by a group of people, unlike last year when Clint had had him mostly to himself. He told himself he didn’t mind though; he and Coulson had plenty of downtime to chat about things. This didn’t have to be just like last year’s party. 

He wasn’t at all pathetically looking forward to the chance at another peck on his cheek at midnight.

Darcy sidled up next to him at one minute to midnight. “What?” she said at his cocked eyebrow at her. “A free kiss from Clint Barton? How could I pass that up?”

“Darce, you only have to ask.”

She rolled her eyes but still smiled as she muttered ‘charmer.’

It really was true though, he liked Darcy a great deal. Heck, he sometimes wondered what could – what would in all likelihood – happen between them if he wasn’t so hung up on Phil. They were certainly physically compatible, he couldn’t help but think as their lips met in a kiss that wasn’t entirely chaste at the stroke of midnight. Tradition was tradition and he was still stupidly hung up on his unobtainable coach, and so he and Darcy pulled apart with matching grins, stepping and turning…which brought Clint face to face with Bobbi.

She gave him her most devilish of smirks before cupping his face in her hands and kissing him. It was beyond what was normally traded during the team party, felt more reminiscent of a kiss they would have shared when they were married and he lost himself a little in it. It had been a long time since he’d been kissed properly. Bobbi released him and then winked as she bodily turned him so that he was face to face with Coulson. He felt her give him a little nudge and he could have sworn he saw May (of all people) slip away from behind Coulson. 

Clint wanted to make a joke, something about here we are again – harkening back to last year – but something in Coulson’s expression made him pause. And then, before he quite knew what was happening , Coulson – Phil, he should call him Phil when they weren’t working – was brushing a hand against his jaw as if to cup his face and leaning in to brush their lips together. 

It was over between one blink and the next and then Phil cleared his throat and excused himself, moving through the crowd and towards the exit. Clint watched him go, trying his hardest not to touch his lips. Behind him he heard a commotion as Peggy and Natasha were kissing each other. Pietro’s voice carried over the crowd:

“Damn, it’s like Steve and Bucky kissing!”

“Oh please, like that’s never happened,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes as he grabbed Bucky and planted one on his lip, much to the delight of the rest of the crowd. 

Clint continued to stare at the exit Phil had rushed out of.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [ereshai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai) for the quick beta!!

Barney sipped at his coffee as he watched the activity below. His eyes tracked Clint in his purple practice jersey as he, Sam, and Steve raced down the ice passing the puck back and forth despite Thor and Rhodey’s best efforts to stop them. Bruce stopped Sam’s initial shot, but didn’t control the rebound as well as he could have, allowing Steve to sneak it past him. There was a bit of crowing and good natured celebrating before they drifted back to the other end of the ice to let the next line have a go. A noise caught his attention and he glanced over to see Bobbi approaching.

“Birdie,” he greeted as she settled next to him.

“Charles,” she replied and his lips quirked as he nodded – touché. Birdie usually was Clint’s nickname for her. 

He took another sip as he waited for her to say something.

“How are the girls?” she finally asked.

“Good, good. Enjoyed their time with Uncle Clint while Lauren and I had a few days off,” he replied, glancing down to the bleachers where Lily and Eliza were sitting with Kate. Lauren had elected to sleep in that morning and Kate had happily agreed to watch the girls so they could see practice up close. And since she had been doing that the last few days already, the girls adored her. Barney liked to watch from higher up, enjoyed the way you could see the play developing, and given that it was a Monday after holiday break for most local schools no one else was up there with him. Well. No one but Bobbi.

“So…” he drew the word out. “What’s on your mind?” They’d known each other long enough, were still family in a way, despite the divorce. There was no real reason to beat around the bush. Bobbi nodded in appreciation.

“You said something to Coulson, didn’t you?” He raised a brow and took another sip of coffee. “Coulson’s been…different lately.”

“Different how?” She leveled a look at him and he held his hand up. “Okay, okay,” he huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I said something.” He held up his hand again as she opened her mouth. “No, no – don’t start. I had a damn good reason and you know it.” 

Bobbi said nothing, though the set of her jaw practically screamed ‘try me.’

“Bobbi, he’s 14 years older than Clint; and holds a position of power over him. Clint doesn’t need another person abusing their power over him. There have been far too many already.” Too many when he’d been too young.

“Barney, you know he’s not like that.”

“No, I don’t. And you don’t either. We might believe it’s a possibility, in fact I’d go so far as to say it’s very likely, but it’s not a certainty and I don’t want to take that chance.” Too many people before the Murrays, and sadly a few coaches after their adoption, had tried to abuse their position over Clint. 

“Look, we both know Clint gets in too deep too fast. I thought this thing for Coulson might go away with him being his coach permanently. That he’d realize it wouldn’t happen because of the power imbalance. I was wrong. So yeah, I talked to Coulson. I know he’s interested in Clint. I’ve seen how he looks at him. I just reminded him of his place-”

“Dammit Barney!”

“No. No, you don’t get to curse me. Coulson agreed it was a dangerous situation. He’s going to be more cautious now. And maybe, just maybe, Clint can start to get over him and look for someone else.” Hopefully it won’t hurt him as much this way was left unsaid, though, as he watched Bobbi’s expression morph into sad understanding, he suspected his face gave that away.

“Barney, he’s an adult. He gets to make his own choices. His own mistakes. You can’t protect him forever,” she said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

A small petulant voice inside him (that sounded a great deal like his 16 year old self) wanted to say ‘I can try.’ He settled instead for huffing out, “I can’t help it. It’s second nature, has been for a long time.”

“I know,” Bobbi said, squeezing his arm once before removing her hand. “I know. I feel the same way.” She waited until he met her gaze squarely. “Whatever happens with this we just have to sit back and let it play out. Support him as best we can. Even…”

“Even if it means picking up the pieces if it all goes wrong,” he sighed and drained the rest of his coffee.

Down below Clint threw his arms up into the air and let out a whoop of joy as he managed to sneak a puck between Tony’s pads.


End file.
